


Keep Me Warm, or Why Harry Potter Needs Thermals

by pagan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, HP: EWE, Humor, Post-Hogwarts, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 18:24:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagan/pseuds/pagan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry tries to keep to his <i>no thermals</i> stance this winter</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Me Warm, or Why Harry Potter Needs Thermals

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the A Love Actually Christmas 2010 on Granger Enchanted, where the prompt was “Don't give me something I need for Christmas. Give me something I want.”
> 
> Beta: Immortal Phoenix
> 
> Disclaimer: Only the plot is mine; the characters belong to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et al.

_Sky News Weather_ _, December 2010: Britain braced for more icy weather; Snow blankets UK; Arctic Conditions Engulf Britain in Snow_

 

Harry Potter stared at his best friend exasperatedly. “Honestly, Hermione, I don’t need any more socks! And before you say anything further, the house-elves don’t need more socks either! Or hats or wooly mittens for that matter!”

 

"Harry James Potter! I’ll have you know everybody needs socks. Good woolen ones, especially this winter,” cried Hermione. “Didn’t you listen to the radio this morning? Or watch the news on the telly? They’re predicting a freeze this winter. You’ll need warm socks, and yes, warm clothing before you freeze to death.”

 

Harry growled. He needed to stop this from getting too far. If they carried on in this vein any further, she would be picking out wooly underwear for him as well! “Hermione, I don’t care if my toes or even if my _bollocks_ freeze up and fall off this winter; I don’t want any more socks. And I don’t want any more woolies. Don’t give me something you think I need for Christmas, give me something I want.” All this was said a low, even tone which belied the anger and frustration Harry was feeling at that moment in time.

 

Standing outside Selfridges in Oxford Street in Muggle London, in the admittedly freezing cold weather, Harry stared down the witch who had been one of his best friends since they were both 11 years old. For the first seven years of their friendship he had relied on and valued her intelligence, her persistence to get things done (and done right!), her tenacity, and her unwavering support for him, to vanquish one of the darkest wizards of all time. 

 

Now at 30, he still admired her for her intelligence and appreciated her obvious fondness for him (which he wholly reciprocated and more) but Merlin, her _persistence and tenacity_ must be a bloody euphemism for plain old nagging!

 

He refused to back down on this issue. She was starting to go all maternal (read: nag, nag, nag) on him lately, and frankly, one Molly Weasley was all he needed in his life. Thank God he had broken up with Ginny all those years ago. She had married Dean Thomas within a year of their break up and after having popped out two little red-headed Thomases, started packing on the pounds and resembling her mother more and more. There was truth to the saying that you can tell how your girlfriend will end up in 30 years time by just looking at her mother. And in Ginny’s case, in about half that time.

 

From the mulish expression on Hermione’s face, he could tell she refused to back down as well. “Oh, Harry,” she said (in Harry’s opinion) bossily, “be reasonable. They’re predicting sub-zero temperatures, even in London.” She looked at him, her brown eyes warm with concern and affection. All the frustration left Harry at that warm gaze. “You’ll need something to keep you warm, especially at night. That old house of yours is frightfully cold.” _And lonely_ was left unsaid.

 

Harry knew Hermione thought he was pining over his last girlfriend, who had broken up with him five months ago. As he had not gone out with anyone since then, Hermione was not wholly inaccurate in her beliefs. He was lonely, and his thoughts were almost always of one particular female, but it wasn’t his ex-girlfriend. _They_ had broken up because she was, like all his previous girlfriends, jealous of Hermione and her place in his life. She had accused him of always comparing her to Hermione and finding her falling short, that he was secretly in love with Hermione and that he should just “ _grow some, tell her, and shag her already_ ”. Harry had been furious and had denied all this; the damage however, had been done. They had broken up and in the aftermath, he had reviewed his past relationships and had realised that his most recent ex was right: He had compared all his girlfriends to Hermione, because to him, Hermione was the perfect woman. And after all these years, he was in love with her. He had been for ages. 

 

Harry stared at his best friend, all bundled up in her thick winter jacket and woolen scarf, her bushy hair somewhat subdued in the cold frigid air and duly trapped under a woolen cap pulled over her ears; the woman who had been there for him for what seemed like forever. He debated internally: Should he tell her that she meant more to him than any other? That he wanted her to love and care for him as more than just friends? That he was lonely for her? And that what he wanted was for _her_ to keep him warm at night, not some blasted socks or thermal underwear!

 

"Hermione,” he said.

 

"Yes?” She cocked her head to one side, waiting for him to speak.

 

No time like the present, he told himself. Taking a deep breath, ignoring the other people walking along the street, he reached out and gently captured her face between both his hands. “Hermione,” he breathed. “Don't give me something I need for Christmas.  Give me something I want.” He looked into her eyes, willing her to understand that what he wanted and what he cared about was her.

 

Surprise and something like hope slowly bloomed across her face. “And what is it that you want, Harry James?” she asked softly, uncaring of the snow that had started falling down on them.

 

Looking at the expression on her face, Harry was quite certain Hermione knew what he meant. She wasn’t the brightest witch of their age for nothing, thank Merlin! “You know, Hermione. I think perhaps you’ve always known.”

 

She smiled. “Just to be sure, I think I’d like to hear you say it.” 

 

He smiled in return, confident now in the affection shining in her eyes. “Hermione, I love you. All these years, you’ve been the one constant in my life and the only woman I’ve ever cared deeply about. You know that, just as you’ve known why I broke up with Ginny and the precious few other women I’ve gone out with over the years. It’s always been you.”

 

"Oh, Harry.” She smiled mistily at him. “I confess,” she said softy, “I did think there was something between us. I’ve had feelings for you for some time now and I thought that after your last break up, we’d somehow get together. But then, you didn’t say anything to me or let me think anything other than you were desperately pining over _whatshername_ for months on end.” She sounded rather disgruntled at the end of that.

 

Harry grinned at Hermione’s summary of his dismissal of his ex. “It took me some time, but I figured it out for myself.” He moved to wrap his arms about her.

 

"Thankfully,” Hermione teased. “It had come to a point where I was about to ambush you on Christmas Eve myself. Put an end to all this waiting around for you to act.” She gave him a wicked smile which did all sorts of funny things to his insides, not the least of which was the sudden warming up of his nether parts, previously cold and shriveled thanks to his _no thermals_ stance.

 

"Oh, you wanted to be my Christmas present? All wrapped up in a nice big, red bow?” He paused, and then added tentatively, “And, uh, nothing else, I hope?” 

 

Her blush was answer enough. He grinned delightedly.

 

Hermione cleared her throat. “Ahem. Well, now that we’ve established that, I think it’s even more important we get you wooly underwear,” Hermione said decisively.

 

What on earth? Where did that come from? Harry felt confused at the abrupt change of subject; he had to know. “Why?” 

 

“Well, I can’t very well let your bollocks freeze and fall off now, can I?” She gave a sly smile. “It’ll need to be put to good use tonight!”

 

[End]

 

 


End file.
